The Happy Valley Road 

The forks of the river near the BVSC 

The Beaver River is freezing quickly 

Solstice Mountain Tour

For those of you who have never taken a mountain tour, I can't wax eloquently enough to express my enthusiasm for exhaust and excessive mileage. (Apologies for the alliteration.) I should explain something first. The mountain is not really a mountain. The word mountain is really just the vernacular of folk who live in the vicinity of the Niagara Escarpment. You'll hear of Hamilton Mountain, and Blue Mountain specifically, but I'm certain that people who live along the length of the escarpment refer to it as just "the mountain." None of this goes to diminish the beauty and ruggedness of this massive geological formation. It's just not a real mountain.

I was taught early on in life to appreciate traveling the less beaten path by my mum. She was born and reared in the Beaver Valley. It's a majestic place and a brilliant feature of the escarpment, located a few miles west of my hometown. All of this terrain is in some way influenced by the Niagara Escarpment and glaciation during the last ice age. At the end of the last ice age, the valley would have been a large fjord on the now long gone Lake Algonquin. Geographers would say that the current Beaver River is an erratic stream that merely follows the channel carved by a much mightier river. This is likely true, but my mum wouldn't hear any of it. She's a staunch defender of the beauty and importance of Beaver Valley, and will certainly bristle at any attempt to downplay either. The Beaver Valley is one of the most beautiful places I know, and I can thank my mum for instilling an appreciation for it. We have travelled quite a bit along most of the backroads between Collingwood and Owen Sound Ontario. The challenge nowadays is to see who gets lost first when we go on our grand road trips. It happens once in a blue moon, but it's hard to stump either of us on the unmarked roads of Grey County.

Driving in the country is a rare treat these days, and my pal Sass needed to get her skis, so I eagerly offered to head out for a cruise. Sass has had the good fortune to live in the valley, and I happily found that she resided in the shadow of my mum's former school. Mum attended this one room schoolhouse way back in the late 30s and early 40s. Long before roads and mechanized transport had improved enough to centralize schools like we see nowadays in rural areas. Sass' actual abode in the valley was just around the corner from where we stopped to take a few pictures. The Epping Swamp lies a few kilometers downstream from Kimberley Ontario. The river rushes down from Eugenia falls at a hurried pace, and then it gradually slows as the valley broadens at Epping. There are several square km of wetland, and yesterday the wet was rapidly becoming solid at 20 below Celsius. Even at this temperature, a few flakes of snow were coming amongst the sunbeams making for a beautiful but frozen display.It was nice to see the old neighbourhood.

Mountain Touring or Gravel Running, or whatever else it has been called is good for the soul. Getting out of the urban rat-race even for a short period can work wonders. I keep returning to places in the Beaver Valley because I've known them all my life, and yet I never lose fascination for them. After several generations of my family living there, I suppose it's no wonder. Long live the Mountain Tour.

I couldn't wait for it to cool down.

Barmbrak

Barmbrak is an Irish dessert that my mum fell in love with a few years ago. She brought the recipe back to Canada with her, and made me a convert. Anyone who thinks Irish cuisine is all fried breakfasts and nothing else, then try this. Dr. Liam claims that it is customary to put a ring or a coin into the mix so that one lucky recipient gets a special treat (or a broken tooth).

Mix the following ingredients:

1 cup raisins
1/2 cup currants
1 cup brown sugar
3 tbsp cooking oil
2 tsp cinnamon
2 cups hot water

Boil the mixture for 5 minutes

Let this cool this off.

Mix your wet ingredients with :

3 cups flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon nutmeg
1 teaspoon cloves

Form a round loaf on your baking sheet. Form two if you like. Hell.... double the recipe and make four.

Bake at 300 degrees F for up to two hours. If you make two loaves like I did, it takes about an hour to bake.

Use the toothpick test and save some for your friends. They'll enjoy it too. Jim and Mona will vouch for me.

What was I supposed to do with the snow on my balcony ?

Drunkerthanaskunk

It's six thirty in the morning, and I just got home. I embarked on a journey to west Toronto with the promise of free beer and good company at 8 pm this past evening. I was rewarded beyond my wildest dreams, and I got to see JR and Eileen's secret laughing place. After several of JR's homemade and quite delicious brews, I set my sights on the homeward track with my pal Sass at my side. This was a mistake.

Being the brain damaged lunkhead that I am, I eagerly accepted an invitation for a nightcap at the Fiddler's Green. Here I encountered my downfall. The dreaded rusty nail washed down with a shot of Bushmills straight up. This is the stuff that the Gods on Mount Olympus get sloshed on. Feeling like I was in the presence of the immortals, I chose to follow Sass home for a post nightcap tiple. She whipped out her trusty bottle of Birthday Whiskey, and proceeded to twist my sore arm and force me to help her finish it off. The Cuervo Gold chaser was the crowning touch. We proceeded to bare our souls in the hope that neither one of us would notice, and after a few minutes of babble, I staggered for home with the intention of actually getting here.

Being the ravenous animal that I am, I quickly raided the fridge and found some blueberry syrup, and vanilla ice cream. Not bad at all, and I didn't spill any on my cool red shirt. I am happy and unscathed, except for the two guys who held Sass and I down and forced us to drink too much. I suspect my head is going to be sore. Jeeeez....